I wonder
by ShadowDianne
Summary: There are many things that I knew you knew, many things that I never told you and you still knew and many other things that I wasn't able to told you and so you won't know.


_I know that the following…. Idea is quite OOC for her but there are times in which you put yourself in front of the screen and you just write. That was what happened today so I'm sorry for it._

I wonder

There are tales that are never told. Stories that aren't remembered or whispered in front of the fire under the attentive eyes of both children and adults. There are things that aren't considered interesting enough to be remembered.

I should know; I was once part of those forgotten tales, a couple of words on the bottom of a ruffled page.

There are things that are forgotten as time passes, things that shouldn't be there in the first place, things that shouldn't need to be forgotten in order to stop the pain they inflict.

With time I know that children and adults will forgot what we were, what we fought for, who our foes were and the only thing that could ever be left of us will be another book, full of things that would be considered folklore.

I wonder what will happen then, I wonder if faith and hope will still bring those tales, our own stories, back to life. I wonder if it those new owners of the book will have another prophecies hanging behind them. I wonder…

I wonder why you did it. I wonder if your story will be remembered, the story of the savior that gave everything for the one guilty for her destiny. The story of the woman who decided to give her own happiness without hesitation, without any glance back to the future she could have. I wonder if you will be remembered, called reverently. I wonder if they will manage to get your name right, your past, what you did, what you didn't.

I wonder if they would paint you dressed on your leather jacket and your attitude, the same one that I learned to hate and find comforting at the same time.

I wonder why.

I wonder why I couldn't move as you disappeared, I wonder why you didn't reply the first time we called for you. I wonder why you didn't answer the second, the third. I wonder.

I'm the only one who still does it though. They are still searching for you. Probably they ever will. But they don't ask themselves the same questions I still ask. Maybe because they never saw what I saw that night. And back on that land, the land in which I was an outlaw and you just the woman that claimed to be the other mother of our son. In that land, even with my fuzzy memory, I still can recall you, looking back at me and saying things about happy endings, about second chances.

I wonder how many chances you ever gave me. How many chances I ever gave you.

However, there are things I never told you, things that I thought weren't important. Like when I told you that I needed you and you thought that I was merely using you. And maybe it was one of the reasons but it was true that I wanted to be next to you as I tried to cross the city border and see the outside world while trying to understand what my nightmares meant. I also didn't tell you that I also knew when you were lying; even if you thought that you could fool me. I also didn't tell you that when you finally returned back after what happened with Cruella I was the one who asked the pirate to leave you alone.

There are things that you know that I don't remember telling you, like how I take my coffee, or what my favorite type of salad is. Or the fact that I find absolutely endearing the way you tried to make me thing about something else.

There are things that I never got around to ask for forgiveness. Like the fact that I shouldn't have tried to find him. That it wasn't fair. There are things that I will probably remember forever. Things that you won't.

I wonder where you are, if you still are you. If you feel the dagger, if you feel the magic calling for you.

I think you do. Your mother doubts it but as I've told you before; she is an idiot.

Henry is still waiting for you, still thinking there is a way, if I am the one who still wonders he is the one who still believes. And hope, his hope, is not one that makes me weak but strong.

I don't know what I'm doing though, being a hero. Sometimes it looks too easy, sometimes it looks too hard. Some other times there are too many ghosts to even try to explain why.

I wonder about the things that we saw, that we felt, I wonder about the first burst of magic we ever felt together, about the fact that we opened a portal. I wonder about the eclipse, the way you knew, the way I knew, the way you looked at me when you drove away. The way you looked at me when we met again.

I have always been able to feel you, sense you, and sometimes I feel the tingles, just soft enough to know that you are somehow close to me. Even if no one can see you. I wonder what does that mean.

You asked me for friendship, I told you that I didn't know why you would have thought we could be friends. I lied, and you knew. I still think that you could have said something and yet you didn't.

I wonder why I miss you whereas I already know the answer.

I wonder Emma, I wonder about the missed opportunities, I wonder about fate and words that didn't look too interesting at first. I wonder about the truths we knew and we didn't share. I wonder about your eyes the moment you were swallowed, changed, because of me.

I wonder.


End file.
